by A. C. Ellas
Jisten ran his hands through Rak’s short hair. “I agree. I’ve been thwarted twice. And Scorth’s been hurt. I’ll be more careful. Teach me about sun priests. And magic.”
Rak stretched against Jisten’s length. “What? Right now?” Jisten stroked Rak’s wings. “Why not? I can oil your wings and you can teach me.”
“That calls for getting up,” said Rak.
“I can oil lying down.”
“Hmm,” said Rak. His eyes twinkled with interest. Jisten felt in his tunic pocket and drew out a vial of oil. He unstoppered it with one hand and tipped it onto his fingers. He lazily oiled the topmost wing. “I don’t think I can stick a dagger in him,” Jisten said conversationally. “I don’t have Kal’s skills. But he’s bound to be prepared against crossbows, too.”
“He will be guarded against any physical attack now,” said Rak. “Two attempts, so close together, he will be wary, very wary. I suggest you wait.”
Jisten swept down Rak’s spars with a flourish. “That has merit. So long as I can try again later. Yes?”
“Much, much later. He will ask his friends for help at this point.” Jisten chuckled. “The man doesn’t know what a friend is. Photas says the other sun priests loathe him.” He switched oils and started on sail membranes. “He hates bugs. Can you talk to bugs and make them infest the sun chapel?”
“Easily.”
Jisten rubbed the edge of Rak’s wing between his thumb and forefinger in a sensuous circle. Rak mmm’d and grew distracted.
* * * * See if he can orgasm four hundred times like in the dream, Scorth sent privately. Better yet, have that dream again. I liked his silver and black wings. Scorth utterly ignored that Rak couldn’t control his dreams. But leave out the harness. Disgraceful.
Jisten was kissing Rak, blissfully unaware of the mental conversation. Rak broke off the kiss and said, “Excuse me. I need to kill my dragon now.”
Jisten looked at Scorth with confusion. “Why? He’s lying perfectly still.”
He’s so mean to me, Scorth mourned. And I was hurt. Rak threw a stick at Scorth’s head. It bounced off at an angle, and Scorth incinerated it once it was safe to do so.
Jisten rubbed the big black tail coiled around them. “S’Rak, be nice,” he teased. “He was hurt trying to defend you.”
Rak gave Jisten his best pity-me look, the one that his grandmother always said made him look like a mournful puppy. “Now you are taking his side? Ah, I yield. I am outnumbered.”
Jisten cupped Rak’s face and kissed him deeply, with lots of tongue. “Now pay attention to me,” he said once they came up for air.
Four hundred tiiiiiiimmmesssss.
“It was only one hundred and three,” said Rak, out loud.
“One hundred and three?” Jisten asked. “It was a dream, a very silly dream, and Scorth will not let me forget about it. And he keeps upping the number, too.”
I am merely giving Rak a new goal, Scorth said with dignity. “Lucky for you two, I don’t mind being left out of the joke,” Jisten said. He stroked Rak’s wings. “And I’ll make you think of something else.”
Rak ran light fingers down Jisten’s chest. “I accept that challenge.” “I’ve never asked, but is there something you would like me to do other than your wings?”
“Me,” said Rak immediately.
“Before your wings?” Jisten scratched his jaw in surprise. “My wings are perfectly oiled already. The rest of me yearns to feel you inside me again.”
Shrugging as if he couldn’t comprehend Rak, Jisten oiled himself. “Well, I did ask.” He gently turned Rak onto his stomach and massaged his butt some more. Once Jisten shifted into position, Rak pushed himself onto the cock without waiting. Jisten lay along Rak, to maximize contact. “How about slow?” he asked. “We’ve indulged several times.”
But not four hundred, Scorth sent.
“Uhm, no, not four hundred.” Jisten sounded embarrassed.
“Slow is fine,” muttered Rak, ignoring Scorth. “So, was I good every time for one hundred and three times?” Jisten asked, ears turning red.
“I did say it was a silly dream,” replied Rak, blushing himself. “We were flying together.”
And you had silver and black wings! “That doesn’t sound silly. It sounds nice. I would love to have silver and black wings and fly.”
Rak slowly rolled against Jisten. “It was very nice. But it was not four hundred times. It was not even one hundred and three times. It was thirty times, at the most.”
“Is exaggeration a draconic trait?” Jisten moved easily with Rak.
“It can be,” said Rak.
“So he shares your dreams?” Sometimes, Scorth sent. “ Ix, not generally. But occasionally, my dreams are so emotionally charged that they intrude into his sleep. He always teases me in that event, after he wakes me up, usually in the rudest way imaginable. I suspect Scorth’s main goal in life is keeping me humble.”
Only when necessary, Scorth sent, sounding shocked.
Rak rolled his eyes at the dragon. Jisten kissed Rak’s neck and nibbled his ears. “Enough of that. Pay attention to me.”
Rak pushed back against Jisten. “Mmmm.” His internal muscles went to work.
“I am not going for four hundred or even thirty,” Jisten breathed in Rak’s ear. “But I do want you utterly loved and satisfied.”
“Good,” Rak breathed back. “But I do wish we could fly.” He pictured the memory of the dream for Scorth, especially the harness. Scorth snorted in indignation and several bushes were denuded. After a pair of very satisfactory climaxes, the two men resumed cuddling.
Rak sighed. “I must go.” “Why?” asked Jisten, startled. Rak was already up and dressing.
“I have been summoned.” “Oh, yes, let us both answer this summoning. I have a surprise for the summoner involving the sharp end of my sword.”
An excellent idea, Scorth cheered mentally. “ Ix, I forbid it. I swore a vow to this man in order to protect my past. Killing him solves nothing. Leave it be.”
“Killing him solves many things, including protecting your past,” Jisten replied. “And I swore to protect you. That’s what a Valer does. Protect his Loftoni in ways he cannot protect himself.”
“Not this time, Captain.” Rak flashed a smile. “I love that you want to protect me, but this one I must face alone.
Jisten ran his hand down Rak’s cheek. “Except that you only submit.” “And at times that is what I need to do.” Rak turned his head and kissed Jisten’s palm.
“Because of the prophecy? Fine, you do what you must and I’ll do what I must.”
Rak had a feeling that Jisten was going to ignore his command to not get involved. It was a good feeling, but also left a pit of fear in his gut. He swung up on Vyld and told the stallion to run before Jisten could get himself organized enough to pursue.
As soon as Rak left, Jisten told Scorth, “We need to talk. We share information now.”
Chapter Fourteen: Summoned Again
Rak hurried to Hasaviz’s office, the summons now an implacable pull that didn’t even allow him to stop by his suite to change into his slave tunic. The ride from the lake had taken far too much time and Rak fretted that he would be punished for the delay.
He pulled on the bell rope and waited. Hasaviz pulled open the door and studied him with a cold expression. “Took you long enough, slave. Kneel and crawl into the training room. Now.”
Rak dropped to his knees, then bent forward and kissed Hasaviz’s boots before he crawled between the man’s legs and into the office. He went directly to the training room with Hasaviz following. Once he was naked, Hasaviz locked the collar on his neck and strapped him to the rack.
Fury in cream and gold robes sprang off the couch and strode over. Murson looked down at Rak with such hatred that the Loftoni was thrust into a memory of Xaethien. If Rak hadn’t been tied down, he’d have bolted, prophecy or no, deal or no, control spell or no.
Murson slapped Rak’s face sever
al times in succession, leaving red marks. “How dare you try to kill me, filth!” He thrust his hand into Rak’s rectum, hard and deep. Hasaviz supervised, his lips pressed together, silent.
Straining against the straps, Rak screamed in agony even as he orgasmed. “Please forgive me,” he begged. The first inside him pumped, and each motion set off a new wave of pain, of pleasure, and of slave fires. The fires surged through him, building with each wave despite a series of false climaxes that sullied his belly and fed energy to his tormentor.
Murson pumped his fist in and out, watching with cruel satisfaction on his face as Rak’s body moved in counterpoint. The reaction was no more under Rak’s control than his erection was. He moaned in mixed pain and pleasure, and begged when he wasn’t moaning. When Murson was sufficiently satisfied, he withdrew his bloody hand and adjusted his robes.
Rak’s bottom lifted towards him. “Please use me, master, I beg you.” He was shaking with need.
Murson thrust in and used Rak’s wings as hand holds. Rak cried out in pleasure and in pain, flashing back to sessions with Xaethien. “Thank you, master.”
Murson pulled out and came on Rak’s face. Rak writhed in an agony of need. “Please, master, please use me.”
“Bring me close,” he ordered and thrust himself into Rak’s mouth. “And I may reward you with the seed of light that does fulfill.”
Rak sucked with a will, his body aching with the need for completion. His heart hammered in his chest, the pain of the fires almost unbearable, even for him, even after years of controlling them. At length, Murson thrust into Rak again.
“Thank you, master,” moaned Rak at the penetration. That made Murson smile, but he twisted Rak’s balls as he came. Rak screamed again, but he still climaxed in Murson’s wake, adding to the mess already on his belly.
* * * *
“I want that control spell.” Murson rounded on Hasaviz. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you the spell. I’m not allowed,” said Hasaviz. He’d been afraid of this, but had a plausible lie ready. “Only family, related by blood to His Mightiness, are permitted.”
Murson glowed with power and indignation. He looked ready to blast the slave trainer and Hasaviz felt a flash of real fear. “There are other secrets I can reveal about the slave,” Hasaviz said quickly. “There is another way that you can use to control him.”
The power and anger drained off the priest. “How so?” “The slave is a bi-gendered freak. The term in the books is kironi. If you put him with child, the kironi magic will bind him to you for the duration of the pregnancy.”
“Why would that interest me? I hardly want a mewling brat to interfere.” “Think of this way, Senior. This is humiliation and degradation of the highest order for one such as he. It is the ultimate revenge for you. He will be forced to bear your child, he will be forced to obey you, unable to harm you or to let you be harmed…at the peril of his own life. And once the kironi magic is well entrenched, his body will force him to seek relief only from you. No other will be able to relieve his fires.”
“Interesting. Show me.” Hasaviz showed him Narvain’s breeding book. Murson stroked Rak’s bound body with a possessive hand as he held the book in the other and read through it. Rak shuddered and closed his eyes.
“His Mightiness, King Narvain, will allow his slave to be bred.” Hasaviz tapped pedigree documents into alignment. It was a subtle reminder to the supercilious sun priest who was really in charge. He didn’t think it prudent to openly admit that Narvain had just about commanded him to have Murson breed the slave. “He cares not who sires the get since all babies born this way will be winged, and hence, slaves.”
Rak was struggling against his bonds, both physical and magical. Even with the collar, green lightning was crackling in his wings. He hissed a curse from between clenched teeth and Murson slapped him. “Manners, slave!”
Hasaviz dipped his pen in the inkwell, watching the slave closely. The renewed control spell was getting a real trial now, and so far, it was holding. But Hasaviz suspected that if any of the three bindings on the slave slipped, Rak would break free of all of it, so great was his fear of sun priests and his loathing of what was about to happen. And Hasaviz knew that Rak hated his gender. Narvain had shared that fact with him.
Avontos, who had silently watched everything with wide eyes from the safety of the couch, now plucked up enough courage to ask, “The dark one’s a woman?” He looked confused.
“The filth is also a freak,” Murson said. “There’s no end to its depravity.” “Loftoni are often bi-gendered,” said Hasaviz mildly. “Personally, I find the female ones who can impregnate each other to be far more freakish.”
Murson and Avontos shuddered together. “He lactates, too,” said Hasaviz, without looking up from his paperwork. “His milk is sweet and delicious. His Mightiness used to enjoy it over shaved ice.”
The two shuddered in unison again. “Prudes,” muttered Hasaviz under his breath. He put down the pen, for he realized he would have to show Murson how to go about the impregnation. He walked over to Rak and stroked the slave’s bared belly. “The female opening hides itself well.” He massaged the abdomen until the umbilical opening gaped pink. “Once the slave is pregnant, you will need to strengthen the baby daily, by providing more seed through this entrance. Each time you do that, you not only humiliate the slave, you increase his desire for you, and his obedience to your will. Before long, only you will be able to satisfy the slave’s fires, and he will not want other men to touch him.”
Murson was already erect again, probably from observing the freakishness of Rak’s body. “It’s so wonderful that the dark one will bear a child of light,” said Avontos. “Perhaps this will help purify him?”
“It can but help,” Murson said. “I must study this. Hasaviz, have you any other materials on this? Perhaps the great Xaethien wrote on it.”
“Xaethien was a great researcher into anatomy,” said Hasaviz, “but he did not specialize in Loftoni. His Mightiness, King Narvain, built upon Xaethien’s work as far as this subhuman race is concerned. I will give you a copy of his writings on Loftoni anatomy and breeding.”
“I should very much like to read it. Then I shall delve into the theology of it as well,” Murson said as he pushed into Rak.
“Of course,” said Hasaviz. He watched Murson with clinical interest. Rak cried out and tried to pull away from Murson. The sun priest pulled out his golden flogger. He chanted and the lashes glowed with power, spitting sparks.
“Can I breed him next time?” asked Avontos. “Is there a breeding queue, Hasaviz?” Murson asked as he whipped Rak’s chest, paying particular attention to the ringed nipples.
“There is not,” said Hasaviz. “It will take him three months to grow this child, then he must have at least a month to rest before he can be bred again.”
Rak shuddered under Murson’s lash and orgasmed in due course. Murson dropped the whip, started pumping in and out of the slave’s female opening, and gasped in surprise. “This is most pleasurable.”
“It’s said to be more pleasurable than any other form of sex.” “I. Must. Agree,” Murson gasped out. He grabbed one of the bars of the rack for support. Rak was stiff and unmoving beneath him, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.
Murson cried out in ecstasy when he orgasmed. Rak visibly shuddered in reaction, climaxing in turn, but the look in his eyes was one of self-loathing and despair. “I so want a turn at that,” Avontos said, wide eyed.
“In four or five months,” Hasaviz assured him. “King Narvain will want his slave bred on a regular basis. Not over-bred, but kept full.” He sat back down at his desk, retrieved his pen and wrote on the document. He made four copies. One he presented to Murson. “His Mightiness will pay handsomely for the babe. I’m sure you don’t want to be saddled with the raising of it. And if you refuse, you will not want to face the consequences. After all, King Narvain owns the dam. All babes bred this way will be male, winged, and bi-gendered, just li
ke the slave, but His Mightiness pays a premium for such.”
Murson backed away and fell heavily onto the couch. “Of course. After I examine it and document it, you may take it away. Subhumans belong in a collar.”
Hasaviz released Rak from the rack and said, “Clean him.” Rak crawled over to Murson and licked the man clean. Murson sat with a dazed but happy look on his face. Rak’s tongue felt even more exquisite than usual. Murson could feel the kironi bond tying Rak to him, giving him power over the Loftoni. He was so pleased that he stroked the animal’s head, running the short hair through his fingers.
“Does that mean no more anal sex?” Avontos whined.
“Of course not,” said Hasaviz. “Go ahead and use him.” Avontos stood behind Rak and opened his robes. The younger priest was quick to position himself behind Rak and plunge in. Rak sucked on Murson while Avontos used him but the old man was too wiped out for more. The old sun priest fell asleep on the couch with a contented look on his face and Rak’s mouth on his cock.
Avontos climaxed with a happy grunt. “I’ll be next,” he promised Rak and slapped his butt.
Rak pulled off Murson to say, “Thank you, master.” Murson awoke with a start as cool air struck his exposed, wet package. He looked down upon Rak. “And now, slave, you will be punished for trying to kill me.”
“That wasn’t punishment?” asked Avontos. He pulled Rak’s head around and pushed himself at the slave’s mouth. “Clean me.” He sighed happily when Rak complied.
“He has tried to kill me twice. My efforts, and Hasaviz’s efforts, have not been effective. Fortunately, there is a solution at hand. Chancellor Virien was kind enough to loan me a pair of his personal guards who have a great deal of expertise in punishing slaves.”
Murson looked at Hasaviz, who nodded wearily and commanded, “Slave, you will obey Hueltar and Thaxor as you would me until the sun sets. They are waiting for you outside. Go now.”
Chapter Fifteen: Sacrilege is Deadly Scorth landed on the roof. Jisten slid down his shoulder and the moment the Valer was down, the dragon transformed. They both ran into the palace. Scorth’s expression was fixed but his yellow eyes were white-rimmed and flicking wildly. He radiated worry and fear to the Valer.